Love You Much Better
by chrisfaithalin
Summary: Molly was never one for jealousy until she met Sherlock. Her thoughts on the relationships in Sherlock's life. Sherlock never realized how his actions hurt her and he tries to remedy them.
1. Chapter 1

First chapter is Molly's perspective. Second chapter is Sherlock's. Each chapter was actually the beginnings of separate stories and then I realized they were different parts of the same story so I rewrote to make them fit together. The story is a little rough around the edges, all constructive criticism is welcome. I haven't written much in over two years. Got to shake that rust off.

Whole inspiration came from The Hush Sound's song "Love You Much Better". Do yourself a favor and have a listen to hear the perfect Molly song.

 _Why do you sing to everybody but me  
Why do I let it go on  
You've got such a music box song  
In my head all day long_

-Love You Much Better by The Hush Sound

Molly Hooper had never really been a jealous person. Of course she would watch the blonde girls toss their hair and giggle at a cute boys' joke, and she would feel a twinge of envy. But then she would remember it wasn't the girls' fault that they were more vivacious. There was no use in being jealous. That feeling quickly faded anyways once she threw herself into her studies. It didn't take long for her to graduate from university with highest honors and to land a job where she didn't much have to interact with anybody.

That was how Molly preferred it. The hospital wasn't much better than a glorified adult version of high school with its complex social hierarchy and a gossip mill that rivaled any she had witnessed in school. The thing is, dead bodies kind of throw people off so it was like she was the lone island in the middle of nowhere. That is how Molly ended up 29 with few social skills despite her watchful observations of the outside world.

There wasn't much use for jealousy in her world and she was proud of that fact. That is until a certain consulting detective swept into her life with his swishy coat and electric eyes that observed everything around him. Molly would be the first to admit that her initial reaction was purely physical. He was a beautiful man, there was no denying it. But after working with him, she realized just how brilliant he was and that there was something alluring about him. Anytime she forced herself out to the bars or was set up on a blind date by a coworker, she was always amazed by the lack of intelligence. Molly wasn't looking for a genius, but she would have preferred somebody who at least knew what was on the periodic table or knew that her job didn't entail working with zombies. She felt like she wasn't holding onto unreasonable expectations. So here comes this man who not only understands her work, but has an appreciation for it. She kept telling herself that it was only natural that she would fall for him.

Molly wasn't blind to the fact that he didn't feel that way about her. But, she comforted herself in the fact that he didn't seem to have those feelings for anybody. He seemed to have no emotional attachments. She had an idea that maybe she could wake up those feelings in him, so sometimes she flirted, put on make-up, something she usually didn't bother with, or on occasion tried to ask him out. It always failed, but at least it wasn't her…at least that is what she thought.

The day that John Watson came into his life, Molly felt the first sharp pangs of true jealousy in her life. Suddenly her notion of how Sherlock interacted with people was turned upside down.

"Hello there. I'm Sherlock's partner, John Watson." He extended his hand as a kind smile graced his features.

"Molly Hooper. I've worked with Sherlock for a couple years now," she responded meekly.

"Oh?" John turned to Sherlock, who was already examining the corpse of their victim. "He didn't mention it."

"Um, that's Sherlock for you."

He steps toward Sherlock. "You should have introduced me to your friend Dr. Hooper, Sherlock."

"She is not my friend," Sherlock concisely responded. "We already had this discussion about friendships with me."

She should have predicted those words as they fell from his lips, but she couldn't stop the sting anyways. She hunched forward a little and shuffled a distance away, trying to ignore the pitying look from John.

"That wasn't very kind," John hissed toward Sherlock.

"It is the truth. Dr. Hooper is useful for the corpses she provides for my research and the use of her laboratory facilities, nothing else."

"Do you see me in the same way?"

"Of course not John." Although here, Sherlock seemed to hesitate. "You help pay the rent, are a useful talking companion, and sometimes provide company."

"That is a friend, Sherlock."

"Oh… Well, I never said you were not a friend. So, I really do not see what the issue is. Now, can you take a closer look at this arm John, and see if you see what I see?"

She stopped her lurking as the conversation turned to work and she hurried off to her office to finish up on some paperwork. John and Sherlock's interactions stuck with her, though. The rest of the night Molly couldn't rid herself of the dark, oozy feeling in her gut. Even as she sat in front of the telly, watching a crap reality show with a generous glass of white wine, she still felt the weight of what happened earlier. It was only then, as the wine sunk into her system, that she realized that she was feeling true jealousy for the first time.

Molly had assumed that Sherlock was a person that had no use for social interactions, or that he just needed time to warm up to her. As if two years wasn't long enough for somebody to warm up to me, she scornfully thought. Nonetheless, what she witnessed today contradicted everything she had presumed about Sherlock. He was a man who did have relationships, just not with her. He had stated it bluntly and clearly, she was not his friend. How could she possibly hope for more after that. But John had the privilege of getting to know the brilliant Sherlock and even got to live with him. Molly wondered what was special about him that got Sherlock to open his life up to this stranger. She could no longer delude herself into believing that it wasn't her. She now had proof that there was something deficient about her.

Her jealousy toward John Watson never exactly faded, but she did grow to adore the man. He was kind to her and always asked about her life and work. She did the same for him and along the way they became friends. It was a balm to the nasty wound from her jealousy. She could count on him to bring her into the conversation and he did not ignore her existence until she was of use. Molly appreciated John and realized that there was nothing romantic between him and Sherlock, she had initially wondered like the rest of them. She went back to her regularly scheduled programming of pining and fantasizing.

Then Irene Adler came into her life, or more like her corpse. She couldn't fathom how Sherlock could identify her based off her body and not her face. She willed herself to ignore the obvious. It became more difficult to ignore after the case and John's blog wrote all of the scandalous details. Irene was the only woman that could get under the skin of Sherlock. Irene was the equal to Sherlock in intelligence and callousness. Molly easily searched the woman up online and she had to admit that Irene was breathtaking. Her beauty was the type that brought cities to ruin. A modern Helen.

Molly wanted to know more, but she knew that John would see through her. He was more astute than his partner when it came to her feelings. She didn't want to look anymore pathetic than she already did. She eased her mind in the knowledge that Irene Adler had left and had not been heard of in years. She also told herself that a man liked Sherlock didn't need a woman like Irene, who would manipulate and play games with him. While she was sure that they had their fun together, it wasn't something that could be sustaining. Just like chocolate cake was delicious, but you needed to have some fruit and vegetables now and again. God, she was comparing herself to food. She needed to get a life.

Things settled back into their routines, until Moriarty upset the whole system. She took pride in how she helped him against his greatest foe. His sweet words about how she mattered the most made her forget every jealous thought she had ever had. But then he was gone and she had to face her day to day life. That was when she met Tom.

Tom never unsettled her in anyway. He was reliable, kind, and gentle. There was nothing for her to fret over. One night at a pub, Tom had gone up to the bar to grab their drinks. A woman, very attractive, sidled up to Tom. Molly could tell that she was flirting with Tom. She waited for the familiar pangs of jealousy to appear, but none came. She had assumed at the time that it meant that she trusted Tom completely, after all he did brush off the woman and rejoin Molly, but later, she wondered if it had more to do with the fact that she didn't have those same strong feeling for Tom that she had for Sherlock. Once she realized that, she started to have the first seeds of doubt in their engagement.

"Sherlock will never love you like I do."

"What are you talking about?"

"Like I haven't seen the way you look at him. He isn't good for you. He will only break your heart. I promise I will never hurt you."

"But I will hurt you. You deserve somebody who loves you madly instead of the girl who sees you as the safe choice.

Tom was right, though, Sherlock would break her heart. When the urine test came back positive, her heart shattered. He was better than this, any of this. Why couldn't see it? She could see it. John could see it. So could Mary. There was a room of people who cared about him and he was going to throw it away. That was when the fury jumped in. It was a change from the persistent jealousy she felt around him.

She couldn't stay mad long because then he was shot and then 48 hours later the tabloids started grabbing her attention. She was left in a dizzy shock of emotions. After reading the first article, she finally realized that she and Sherlock were never going to happen. She really wanted to hate Janine, but Molly remembered her from the wedding and she had been nice. The details of the articles upended what she had believed about Sherlock and relationships, that he was incapable of romance. Janine gave vivid details about their adventurous sex life and the romantic gestures, including proposing to her with a giant diamond ring that she had kept. Molly knew that she was torturing herself and should just quit, but she justified that this was a sort of purging of Sherlock from her system. She wanted it all gone from her system so she could have some semblance of a normal relationship with Sherlock. She could be his pathologist and nothing more.

That was how she found herself in her pajamas on a night in, reading the latest tabloid that Janine sold her story to. It had been a couple of months, and the stories had petered out, but this one caught her eyes as it promised new details of the wedding that Janine had pictured with Sherlock.

The doorbell rang, startling Molly out of her daydreams. She knew the only person that would be calling this late, so she quickly hid the magazine under a stack of books on her coffee table and went to answer the door.


	2. Chapter 2

"I need your help."

"Well, hello there Sherlock. Nice of you to stop by, would you like to come in?" Molly muttered sarcastically as Sherlock shoved his way into her flat.

"There is no time for niceties. I need your access the morgue to test some theories about the reemergence of Moriarity."

Molly sighed. "Really? At this time of night? It couldn't wait until morning?"

Sherlock actually stopped his pacing to look at her. "Why should it wait for morning? You are no longer engaged with Tyson and based on your current state of dress," he gestured to her flannel pajamas, "you have no pressing social engagements."

"Of course. Poor Molly never has any plans…" Her voice trailed as she disappeared into her bedroom, presumably to dress, Sherlock hoped.

He glanced around him, pulling deductions on her life since he last been here two years ago. _New reading chair. Ah, reading Harry Potter for the fifth…no sixth time. Hasn't dusted in the last month. Letter from aunt, must be asking for another loan to fuel her gambling addiction._ He tucked all of these little tidbits away in his mind, safely storing them in the ever expanding room dedicated to Molly in his mind palace. He noticed the tabloid peeking out from underneath the books on her coffee table. His curiosity got the better of him and he slid it out smoothly. A lurid picture of him with the headline "Ex-girlfriend Tells All About Sexy Detective". _God, Janine must have been running low on money._ He noted the tell-tale signs that this had been flipped through several times. He froze when he remembered whose apartment he was in. _Oh, Molly…_

"Are you ready?" Molly asked. The tightness around her eyes and her pursed lips told him all he needed to know about the situation.

He wanted to apologize, but he didn't know what he would be trying to apologize for. So he replaced the magazine and flipped the collar of his jacket. "Yes, if you are."

The taxi ride was uncomfortably quiet, something that Sherlock had never felt in the company of Molly before. She usually chattered on, filling the silence with her small observations. However, now that it was absent the noise, he felt disquieted.

"So, have you been around to meet Lily?"

Molly kept her eyes out the window as she responded. "Yes, she is quite a lovely baby."

"Indeed. Normally I find newborns to look slightly reptilian, and I know that our attachment to babies is purely a biological cue for us to protect them, nevertheless, she is the least unattractive baby I've been acquainted with."

"Hmm," Molly responded non-committedly.

Sherlock was sure that would work. Weren't women supposed to want to prattle on about babies? He calculated the distance to St. Bart's and realized he still had at least another fourteen minutes of this silence.

"Any interesting deaths come through lately?"

"No, just a lot of heart attacks and car crashes."

"It is absurd that people walk around with so many phobias of what might kill them, planes, spiders, snakes, drowning, heights. When really it is likely to be cancer, heart disease, or an automobile accident."

"Hmm."

"Come on now Molly. This is ridiculous."

"What do you want from me Sherlock?" Molly faced him now.

He couldn't pull himself away from her fiery eyes. "I don't know what I did to offend you."

"You did nothing, Sherlock," Molly sighed.

"Then why are you behaving like…"

"Like what? Is it not enough that you pulled me away from my warm apartment on a cold Saturday night so that I can let you into the morgue? Do I have to provide scintillating conversation as well? Okay then, why yes Lily is a very charming baby, the cutest ever perhaps. And phobias are by definition irrational, so it is not at all strange that people have them. Happy?"

"No," Sherlock pouted, crossing him arms.

"Then what do you want from me?"

"I don't know."

"Let me know when you figure it out." Molly turned back to her window.

The silenced continued all of the way to the hospital, and while it was stifling before, now it was downright hostile. Sherlock tried to piece it all together, but kept faltering. He was missing something key. It had to do with that ruddy tabloid, and her seeing him with it. She was embarrassed or ashamed. About her reading it? Why? Those articles were everywhere. He didn't blame her.

He was interrupted by their arrival. He paid for the taxi and hurried up to follow Molly who had walked ahead. She silently led him down to morgue.

"I might as well get some paperwork done. Let me know when you are done."

Her voice was void of any emotion, and that worried Sherlock. He didn't know what piece he was missing, but he tried to turn his brain to his work. He set about conducting a few experiments, which should have only taken him an hour, but ended up taking two because of his distracted state. His theories were confirmed about a certain clue and its origins. He could rest easy knowing he was at least one step closer to figuring out the puzzle that was the reemergence of Moriarty from the dead, it was just the puzzle of Molly that still had him confused.

"I'm ready to go, if you are that is," Sherlock said.

"Let me just finish this one line and…" Molly trailed off, scribbling furiously. "There!" Molly threw her pen down and shuffled her papers, returning them to her office before grabbing her jacket and exiting out of the door that Sherlock held open for her. She locked up and they silently went out into the cold night.

Sherlock led the way, hailing a cab for them. Molly tried brushing it off. "You don't need to see me home. I assure you can I get there myself."

"I don't question your capabilities, but it is only the respectable thing to do after tearing you from your evening plans."

Molly snorted. "Yes, watching crap telly and eating a whole sleeve of Oreos."

Sherlock gave small smile, pleased with the brief thaw in Molly's attitude. "Nevertheless, I will see you home."

Molly put up no more of an argument. They rode back to her apartment in silence, but Sherlock felt that it was no longer the same suffocating silence as before. It was still uncomfortable, but not nearly as so. He lost himself in the ride, still trying to puzzle out what upset Molly so much. When they arrived at her apartment, he realized the only way to find out would be to ask. He paid the cabbie, and followed her to the door despite her protestations.

Molly invited him in stiffly, and he accepted, even though he could tell she really wanted the night to be over. He couldn't let it go, though. He had to know what was going on.

"Molly, I have done something that upset you greatly and I would like to know what it is so I can apologize."

Molly sighed, shucking her shoes off as she curled up on the couch. "It's nothing Sherlock. I'm just tired."

"No, that is not it. You had seven and a half hours of sleep, a sufficient amount of rest for someone your age. It is something more and it has to do with that damn magazine." He pointed to the tabloid. He sat down in the chair adjacent to her, his eyes not leaving her so he didn't miss any clues.

"Sherlock, I really would rather not talk about it."

"Neither would I, but you are upset and I don't know what I did."

"You didn't do anything."

"Molly, this conversation will be over much more quickly if you stopped lying to me and just told me the truth."

Something shifted across Molly's face, a flash of anger, he though. "I'm just tired of being proven wrong about our relationship. You see me as a silly pathologist that has a mild use in acquiring bodies and laboratory space. If I don't fit that version of me, then if messes up your whole world order."

"Of course that is not what…"

"It is, though, I think I finally see my role in your life, and I feel incredibly silly that I ever thought that there was more between us. I thought that I had gained your trust and friendship, but that isn't correct."

"Where on Earth would you get such a notion?"

"There, I read it, I've read all of them. I couldn't help it. I wanted to know what else I was deficient in to be not good enough for you. I mean I already know what you think of my breasts and lips, but I knew there had to be more. What is the type of women that captures the attention of Sherlock Holmes. I already knew about the Irene from the blog, which I get on some level, she is the female version of you, and of course that is alluring. But I met Janine at the wedding, and there seemed nothing extraordinary about her. I didn't get it."

"Molly…" Sherlock felt incredibly uncomfortable with his actions and words being turned around back at him. Was this how she saw him? More importantly, was this how she saw herself?

"No, you wanted to hear, well let me tell you it all. No, she wasn't extraordinary, but from her interviews I saw it. She was funny and smart. Not genius levels, but she could keep up with you. Not to mention she is gorgeous. She didn't have to compensate for her breast size. And then she gushed about your relationship. How the sex was crazy and wild. That you were a different man with her, not at all the awkward detective in the papers and blogs. That you proposed with a diamond ring worth thousands. She talked about how if she had said yes, she thinks you guys would have had a lovely wedding in Trafalgar Square. If somebody could make that happen, it is the great Sherlock Holmes. And through all of these I see I have always been silly to think I could ever be with you. It's my fault really. I always made allowances, saying you weren't capable of being in a relationship or that I was asking too much of you. All the while, I did everything you asked, which is my whole damn fault. So through all of this I feel like a bloody idiot and I don't get why I can't get over you."

Sherlock let go of the breath he was holding during her speech. Each word pierced him as he realized the true damage he had inflicted on Molly Hooper, somebody he deemed most precious. "Molly, you have to understand, Janine was part of a case. I was seeing her to be closer to Magnussen. I needed her for information. She meant nothing to me."

Molly shook her head. "Does it really matter, though? Because you still made her believe it. You were so convincing she believed all of it. I have a hard time believing you didn't feel anything."

"Everything about my relationship was disingenuous. There was nothing of my true self in that relationship. There is only one person I feel that I could be in a relationship and still be my true self."

"Of course, the Woman."

"It's you Molly."

Molly froze for a second, before her face ran through various emotions, excitement, joy, distrust, anger, wariness, and finally settling on confusion.

"I decided at John's wedding, when I saw how happy John and Mary were. I realized that if I had another opportunity with you, I wouldn't mess it up. I wasn't going to interfere with Tom, I knew he wouldn't last, but I would be ready. However, the Magnussen case ended up being much more difficult than I could have ever imagined and then my 4 minute exile, not to mention the return of Moriarty. I've had a lot on my plate and have neglected to give any indication to you that I was romantically interested in you."

Molly still looked shell-shocked. "No, you would never… Everything Janine said in those articles…"

"I am going to ask you out for a proper date to dinner, I think me taking you on cases last year was not a clear enough indication. You will invite me in and from there our relationship will progress. I'm not really into wild and crazy sex, but I assure you it will be no less exciting. After we have properly dated for three months I will use my grandmother's ring to propose to you, it isn't a fancy diamond, but that never has seemed your style anyways. We will get married in my parent's backyard, I much prettier view than Trafalgar Square. We will honeymoon on Victoria Island and then return to our domestic life at Baker Street. Over the course of the next five years we will have two boys. One named James after your father and the other Dexter after my pet gerbil that I had when I was four. We will live contentedly at Baker Street for the duration of our life, enjoying the company of our children and grandchildren. It is not a thrilling or glamorous life, but I assure you it will be wonderful."

"How could you want all of that with me?"

"It's simple really, I can be myself with you. When Janine talked about my true self, it was all an act. Three people know the true me, the Watsons and you. You see me for all of my faults. There is no hidden sensitive side to me, I will always be the socially awkward detective that doesn't understand what is going on half the time, hence my confusion tonight. I am who I am, and while I always strive to better, there is still a lot of work to go. You seem to accept me while keeping me accountable. You are kind when no one else is. You have a sense of humor that not enough people appreciate. You are incredibly smart and put up with my discussions on the chemical makeup of various types of tobacco ash. You've helped me when nobody else has and have never abandoned me for a second. I think you are mistaken about this whole situation. It is I that is not deserving of you."

"Sherlock," Molly spoke softly. Her tone made Sherlock's already rapid pulse speed up. Molly hesitantly stood up and perched herself on his lap. Sherlock felt incredibly vulnerable, lowering his eyes, not sure if he was ready to see what he would see. Molly had other plans, however, and she softly put her hands on either cheek, gently pushing up so he would meet her gaze.

"Tell me now, once and for all, and I will never question you again. Is everything you said the truth?"

Sherlock saw the hope written on her face, and knew this moment was the most important in his life. He would have to build a whole new room in his Mind Palace, commemorating everything about this one moment.

"Everything I've said is the truth. I love you. I have no fancy words to compare my love to. All I know is that it is a constant in my life and will be for the rest of my life. I just hope you can forgive me of all of my faults and accept me."

Molly's eyes watered and she gave a tiny smile. "Of course I forgive you and I love you too." Molly closed the final distance between them, their lips connecting a sweet kiss that would be first of many more to come.


End file.
